


The Den

by TServo



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Cat Cafe, Dancing around each other, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:51:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TServo/pseuds/TServo
Summary: Lee Hwitaek is a little stuck and needs the support of an old friend and some aggressive action to get him out of it. Kim Hyojong doesn't understand not doing what you want, no matter how odd it might be.





	1. So Damn Cool

“Come on, Hyung, we’ll be late,” Hwitaek lightly pushed Jinho from behind, urging him out the door with only one foot safely encased in a shoe.

“Seriously? One shoe, Hwitaek.” Jinho grumbled, hopping on a single foot while he tried to shove the other one into the sneaker he had luckily grabbed before his roommate had slammed the door closed and started walking away from their first-floor apartment. “What the hell are we late for? Neither of us has anything until 9:00, why in the hell are we rushing out at 7?”

“It’s good to be early,” Hwitaek shrugged, not making eye contact with his best friend and roommate as he finally caught up. “It’ll give us time to…”

“Time to actually go into the coffee shop and get coffee?” Jinho asked, his right eyebrow quirked in mock question.

Hwitaek’s cheeks reddened and he looked away from Jinho toward the street, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What coffee shop? I can’t even drink coffee. It’s gross.”

“Every day,” Jinho grumbled, “Every day we walk the same route to campus at the exact same time. Every morning we see the same guy opening that coffee shop and you stare. Every. Damn. Time.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hwitaek flicked his eyes toward Jinho before looking down at his hands intently. “What guy?” 

“What guy?” he snorted out a sharp laugh, “The guy you clearly have a crush on but refuse to interact with in any way? The person you are so clearly intent on stalking  that I have to smell good coffee each and every morning but am denied the opportunity to ever drink it?” Jinho let an exaggerated sigh escape his lips. “You owe me so much coffee. Weeks of coffee. Coffee I‘ve been denied because your overly mature self is being...dumb.”

“Fine.” Hwitaek scrunched up his face for the briefest instant, “I admit it. I like to look at him. I don’t have a crush. Absolutely do not have a crush, but he’s just so...I mean, you’ve seen him, he’s so...I don’t even have the words.” He slipped his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and let his shoulders sag, “Did you see him in that leather jacket last week? Did you?”

The pair turned the corner just in time to see the man in question drag a sign from within the coffee shop and set it up on the sidewalk. Hwitaek grabbed Jinho’s arm and pulled him back to hide behind the building they had just passed. He peeked around the wall and exhaled an almost moan, his normally smiling lips fell into a contemplative frown. “It sounds totally stupid, I know, but he’s just so cool. Look at him.”

The stranger wiped the chalkboard sign clean with a piece of cloth and proceeded to write out the day’s specials with an almost lethargic hand. His shaggy, bleached hair fell across his face as he worked and he tucked it repeatedly behind his ears. Despite its length, reaching his cheekbones, it refused to stay in place as he leaned over the sign. He wore baggy jeans with holes slashed in the knees and across his thighs paired with a simple black v-neck t-shirt. A short, red apron was tied around his waist with the name of the coffee shop, The Den, embroidered on the fabric. It was still spotless this early in the morning. 

Jinho put his hand on Hwitaek’s back, patting it gently and murmuring comforting words to his friend before shoving him with all of his might out from the hiding spot, “Stop being a fucking idiot.” He hissed, “Just talk to him already so I can get coffee on the way to class.”

Hwitaek stumbled forward, having lost his balance from the forced momentum. His palms slammed onto the sidewalk, preventing himself from falling face first onto the cement. Books tumbled out of his partially zipped backpack onto the ground around him, “Holy shit, Hyung!” he yelled in shock, spinning on his heel and falling to his butt on the ground.

“You’ve got his attention now,” Jinho said, his face sporting his trademark adorable expression despite his apparent tendency toward evil, as he turned to look down the street toward the coffee shop. 

Hwitaek squeezed his eyes shut tightly, refusing to let himself check the man’s reaction to the scene he had just made, “Why do I even let you anywhere near me?” He opened his eyes to glare at Jinho, “I hate you.”

“And yet, you continue to live with me year after year and spend all of your free time with me.” Jinho shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t actually believe that you hate me, you just hate the things I do.” He stepped over Hwitaek’s books and reached out his hand to help him up, “But I assure you, it’s all for your own good.”

“You threw me to the ground, making me look like an ass in front of the coolest person I have ever seen for my own good?” Hwitaek seethed, continuing to avoid looking anywhere but at the ground or Jinho’s face. “You’ll have to explain it to me when I’m speaking to you again.” He pushed Jinho’s hand away and got to his feet on his own. He bent over to sweep his belongings off the ground and put them back into his bag. 

“Coolest person?” a new voice sounded behind Hwitaek, moving closer to where Hwitaek stood hunched over his backpack, making sure to close it all the way this time. He flinched a little as he straightened up, not wanting to turn around. “I saw you bite it, you ok?” the voice asked, tinged with concern.

Hwitaek pressed his lips together into a tight smile and finally turned to face the newcomer,  “Not so much bit it, as was sacrificed.” His voice caught in his throat on the final words as he saw the man’s face up close for the first time. He was pale, with a small, perfectly shaped mouth and dark brown, almond shaped eyes. He had a hoop in each ear and, Hwitaek noticed as he yet again swept his hair away from his face, a single silver band around his thumb. 

“Seriously, you hit the ground hard with your hands, are they alright?” He reached out and grabbed Hwitaek by the wrist, pulling his hand toward himself. He flipped it over and inspected the palm, “Not too bad, but a bit scraped up. I have a first aid kit in the shop. You want to come in and clean it up?” He pursed his lips and blew on the torn skin. Hwitaek shivered.

“He’d love to,” Jinho answered for his silent roommate. “And he’d love to buy a coffee for his best friend. To go.” 

Hwitaek snapped out of his daze at the sound of Jinho’s voice. He had honestly forgotten that his now former best friend had been there. “No,” he shook his head for a second, his eyebrows pulling together, “No, I’m fine. I’ll take care of it later. We should go. We’ll be late and you have to...do whatever it is you do in the morning.” He pulled his hand out of the other man’s grip and cradled it in his other palm against his chest. It stung a little where the skin had been damaged, but it really wasn’t that bad. The back of his hand, however, where it had rested on the stranger’s palm, felt like it was on fire. 

“Late?” Jinho asked, his face scrunching up in confusion, “We’re like an hour earl…”

Hwitaek slapped Jinho with his bruised hand across the back of his head, “We have that thing, so yeah, we’ll be late if we don’t get going.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and turned back to the man now looking between him and Jinho with confusion, and maybe disappointment, marring his perfect face. “So yeah, thanks for the offer, but we have to go.”

“Oh, um, maybe come back some other time. I mean, I think everyone would love to meet you. They like company.” He sounded hesitant about the offer, maybe a little nervous, “I’m Kim Hyojong, by the way. So, come say hi.” He shrugged one shoulder and tucked his hands into his apron pocket, “Or something.”

Hwitaek grabbed Jinho’s arm and started to drag him down the street, “Uh, yeah. Thanks again.”

_________________________________________________________

“What do you think he meant by ‘they like company’?” Hwitaek asked, dropping his backpack onto the bench beside him before taking the tiny straw from the convenience store and popping it through the foil on the top of his strawberry milk. 

“Sounded cult-y,” Jinho mumbled, struggling to open the plastic around his own straw before giving up to just peel back the foil on the banana milk and drinking half of it in one swallow. 

Hwitaek rolled his eyes with a sigh, “It did not. Don’t be absurd. He probably meant the other employees. Maybe the coffee shop isn’t doing so well and he meant that the staff was bored.” 

“Whatever. Who cares. It’s not like you’re going to go and find out. You barely even looked at him when he was standing right in front of you.” Jinho finished his milk and tossed the container into the trash bin situated next to the bench. “You might as well get over it now. It’s going nowhere.”

“I told you that I don’t have a crush. I just like to look at him,” Hwitaek set his still nearly full milk on the bench next to him and pulled his backpack closer. He unzipped the largest pocket and rifled between the books looking for the small notebook he always had with him. “We’ve got some time, can you look through some lyrics I wrote last night?”

“Of course we have time. You made us leave the house two hours early.” Jinho held out his hand expectantly, “And of course I’ll read the lyrics. When are you going to change your fucking major to music production? You hate economics and your talents are clearly wasted there.”

“I don’t hate economics. It’s fine.” Hwitaek mumbled, now more frantically digging in his bag, pulling books out and setting them on the bench one at a time. “Where the hell is it?”

“Where’s what?” Jinho asked, dropping his hand to his lap and rubbing his palm on his denim encased thigh. “Is your notebook missing?”

“It’s gone,” Hwitaek was clearly beginning to panic, “It’s not here. It’s always here. For two years it’s been here. It can’t be gone.”

“Breathe,” Jinho soothed, “You wrote it in last night. Maybe you just left it on your desk.”

“You’re joking, right?” Hwitaek stopped, his hands still in the pocket of his backpack, “When have I  _ ever  _ left it anywhere? Ever?” 

“Fair enough” Jinho nodded in agreement, before opening his mouth and closing it again abruptly. He seemed to think through his next words carefully before saying them out loud,  “Ummm, I hate to suggest this, but do you think, maybe, it fell out of your bag when you, uh, tripped by the coffee shop?” 

Hwitaek stilled, eyes slowly lifting to look at Jinho, “Fuck. Me.”

“It’s not that bad. I bet that Kim Hyojong guy picked it up. You can just get it back from him.”  Jinho scrunched up his forehead and widened his eyes innocently.

“You're cute, innocent shit isn’t going to work. I am really, really mad at you right now.” Hwitaek spoke calmly, articulating every syllable that crossed his lips with clear intention. “If that book, my entire life for the past two years, is gone, I will destroy you.”

“It’s not gone. It can’t be gone. It’ll be there,” Jinho reasoned. “It’s too close to class now, but you should right after. I’d do it, but I have another class right away. You have time. Go then.”  

“Oh goody, ‘hey coolest guy ever, remember when I was sprawled out on the sidewalk in front of your store bleeding to death this morning because my best friend hates me?’” Hwitaek cocked his head affecting a saccharine sweet expression, “I just wanted to remind you of that humiliating moment, while also hoping against hope that you found my super embarrassing notebook full of songs that I’ve written and have only let one other person in the whole world read.” Hwitaek’s head snapped upright, “Oh shit. He’ll have read it.”

“He won’t have read it.” Jinho soothed, his voice and expression not quite as reassuring as the words. “I mean, maybe to see if you put your name and contact information inside, but not like actually reading the pages or anything.”

“You’d read the pages,” Hwitaek huffed, “I'd read the pages.”

‘It’s true,” Jinho nodded slowly, “But we’re dicks. He’s not a dick. I can tell.”

“You can’t know that.” Hwitaek pinched the bridge of his nose.”I’ve been watching him for weeks and the only thing I can say about him for sure is that he has the best sense of style in this whole damn city, and his hair looks like it was made by angels with a knack for spinning golden thread.” He let his eyes close, looking pained, “He’ll have read it.”

  
  
  



	2. So Damn Literal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's convinced himself not to be mad, but now Hwitaek feels like he should apologize for his shoddy (but justifiable) attitude.

Hwitaek stood outside the closed door of The Den, the coffee shop he hoped was currently housing his lost notebook.  _ The  _ notebook. The one he had been writing and doodling all of his ideas, his innermost thoughts, his secret hopes and dreams in for over two years. All of his song ideas, lyrics, and whatnots were in that book. It was imperative that he get it back. It was as critical that he not lose that personal history as it was that it not get into the wrong hands. The wrongs hands being anyone not him.

He took one more deep breath before reaching out and pulling the door to the shop open. He had been fantasizing about opening that door for the past couple of months and was truly disappointed that this was the reason it was actually happening.  He should have just come here when he first noticed the guy opening up the place when he had chanced upon it one morning on his way to campus. If only he liked coffee...maybe if he was addicted to the stuff he would have felt that need more strongly than his urge for self-preservation and the avoidance of humiliation.

Well, that had worked out really well.

He stepped into the sunlit coffee shop and scanned the room in the hopes of spotting the coolest guy ever as quickly as possible so he could grab the book and get out of there. His eyes went directly to the counter, with its display of freshly baked goods and complex and overly elaborate coffee making equipment. There was no one standing at the cash register. 

“Please close the door.” Came a voice from the far side of the room.

“Excuse me?” Hwitaek asked, seeing a man stooped over one of the mismatched tables, wiping it clean with a cloth in his hand. “I’m sorry?”

The man straightened, “Can you please close the door? I’d hate to see one of the kids get out.”

“Kids?” Hwitaek asked, eyes darting around the space. He spotted an odd assortment of furniture, tables, chairs, a couple of couches, and a series of carpeted towers strategically placed around the room. He did not see any children, but what he did see was at least four different cats lazily napping in various sunny locations and one cat quickly making her way toward the door that he still held open. “Oh. Oh!” he said, quickly closing the door behind him, the cat meowing at him in annoyance for blocking his escape. “You have cats? In a coffee shop?”

“We have cats. This is a cat cafe. Didn’t you get that from the name?” the man smiled, his face looking both amused and judgy in the same moment. “The Den. Like a lion’s den. Get it? Cats live here.” 

“Yeah, I mean, now that I know there are cats, it obvious.” Hwitaek leaned over and ran his fingertips through the orange and white fur of the cat now angrily glaring up at him. “That’s...very literal.” 

The other man let out a sigh and shook his head in disappointment, “Anyway, I’m glad you came in this time. Can I get you something?”

“Uh, is this your coffee shop?” Hwitaek asked dropping to his knee to continue petting the cat as he asked.

“Nope. Not mine. Dawnie owns it, I just work here. I’m Yeo Changgu,” the man cocked his head to the side and looked at Hwitaek as if trying to get a read on him. “Are you a fan of Dawnie’s or something?”

“A fan…Why would I…?” Hwitaek asked, “No. I don’t know who you’re talking about. I was just looking for some guy that works here, Kim Hyojong? He might have something of mine and I want to get it back.” He stood back up, reluctant to stop petting the cat, but with a renewed sense of urgency in his task.

“Hyojong? That’s Dawnie, E’Dawn. You don’t know him?” Changgu looked surprised by the idea. “It’s his stage name. Nothing?”

“Ah, no. Nothing.” Hwitaek huffed in frustration, “Look, I have to get back to campus for a class, I just want to know if the guy is here or if he might have left something here that he found this morning.”

“A black notebook?” Changgu asked, his interested piqued, “kinda small, full of writing and like little doodles and stuff?”

“You read it?” Hwitaek barked in alarm.

Changgu shrugged, “Nah. It was on the counter when I got in.” He scratched lazily at his neck as he spoke, “I picked it up and flipped it open, but Dawnie grabbed it before I could read anything. Said it was personal. Guess it was personal to you, not him.” 

“So is it here?” Hwitaek asked, growing more impatient with the man.

“Dawnie took it with him.” The man smiled, bending over to sweep up a cat as it wandered by his feet. It lay on it’s back in his arms and he rubbed the soft white hair of its belly in slow, sweeping strokes. “Don’t you love cats? They’re just so...chill.”

“Cats are the best, sure.” Hwitaek pressed his palms together in front of his mouth as if in prayer, “So this guy, E’Dawn or Hyojong or whatever took my notebook with him somewhere?” He closed his eyes in a slow blink before adding slowly, clearly articulating each word as if talking to a child, “When do you expect him to return?”

“Oh, he’s just in his office. You could go back there now if you wanted. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Changgu’s face lit up as if he had set up some great prank that was finally playing out.

“Are you trying to annoy me?” Hwitaek asked, dropping his hands from his face. “That notebook is really important to me. Are you trying to make this hard for me?”

“Nah, it was just a joke. I like you.” Changgu seemed unaffected by Hwitaek’s exasperation, “Yanan’s gonna like you to. I’m glad. Dawnie has questionable taste sometimes.” He pointed toward a hall at the back of the room, “Office is the third door...if you see a toilet, you stopped too soon.” He chuckled to himself again.

Hwitaek watched the man kiss the tip of the nose of the cat he was cradling before setting it gently on the ground. He picked up his wet cloth and began wiping the table as he had been when Hwitaek had first entered the coffee shop. He was now seemingly lost in his own thoughts, a smile dancing on his lips as if he were holding back a laugh. 

With the orange and white cat close on his heels, Hwitaek walked in the direction that Changgu had indicated. He passed the two doors, each painted to look like sub Saharan Africa, one with a lion and the other a lioness. The third door was painted a plain brown and marked with a sign stating ‘employees only.’ Hwitaek raised his fist to knock but faltered before rapping his knuckles against the wood. He cringed at how hesitant the sound was. Normally so confident, Hwitaek felt self-conscious about the prospect of interacting again with the person he had been watching from afar. 

“S’open!” a voice called out, presumably Hyojong's, giving him permission to open the door. He turned the knob and pushed it, feeling the paint of the door stick momentarily to the frame. He took a deep breath as he used a little more force to get it to move. When the door finally opened, he stumbled a little into the room, not falling, but clearly not maintaining his balance as a normal human being would when entering a room. “Oh, you're not Changgu,” Hyojong said in surprise.   

Hwitaek, wide eyed from his own less than graceful entrance, looked up at the man sitting behind a desk in the tiny office. Hyojong had circular, wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose and his bleached hair hung around his face, a pen sticking out from behind one ear. He held a second pen in his hand as if he had just been writing. A pair of headphones were looped around his neck, the cord plugged into the laptop sitting on his desk, pushed aside.

“It’s you!” Hyojong smiled, the expression accentuating his already prominent cheekbones.  

“It’s me?” Hwitaek asked, distracted for the smallest fraction of time by the way Hyojong’s upper lip almost disappeared with the show of pleasure. “Oh, yeah. It’s me. From this morning.”

“How’re your hands? The scrapes looked painful. I wish you would’ve let me clean them for you.” Hyojong said, trying to push the pen in his hand behind his ear, ending up with it and the one already there falling to the desk. He picked one up and smiled widely again, inspecting the pen closely “I was looking for that.” He scrunched up his nose in pleasure as he again tucked it behind his ear.  

Hwitaek was at a loss for words watching this person, this man, make fumbling around with office supplies look like the absolutely most...adorable thing he had ever seen. It was almost painful to file this tiny memory away knowing he would take it out and examine it again and again as one of their most, no, as  _ the most _ significant interaction they had between them. Hwitaek tried to take in the entire scene in the split second before he spoke. He noted the curve of the man’s jaw, the way the V of his t-shirt hung low enough to reveal his collar bones, how he leaned on the desk with his elbows, playing with one of the pens, one of his fingers marked with a smudge of ink, and the notebook that sat open in front of him. His notebook, Hwitaek’s notebook.

“Uh, yeah, so this morning I fell and…” He was never at a loss for words. He was completely articulate in every social, academic, and professional setting he had ever been in. Why the fuck was he being an idiot in front of this guy for the second time in one day? He took a couple of steps closer to the desk, reaching out his hand to point at the notebook on the desk, “I lost something.”

“Yeah!” Hyojong confirmed, his expression becoming impossibly brighter, “I found it after you left. It was on the ground so I snagged it. I was hoping you’d stop by to pick it up. I wanted to…”

An enormous gray cat jumped from the floor to the desktop interrupting Hyojong’s train of thought. It padded silently across the papers strewn on the surface, stopping directly in front of Hyojong and sat on top of the open pages of the notebook. Hyojong dropped the pen he was holding to the desk and gently cupped the cat’s face, leaning in to touch his own nose to the animal’s. 

“Is that cat sitting on my notebook?” Hwitaek asked, taken aback. “Is that thing putting its bare butt on the open pages of my notebook? Why is it open?”

“It’s fine. Really.” Hyojong says in a soothing voice, not looking up from the cat. He ran his thumbs around the cat’s eyes and over its ears, one of which was visibly torn from some long ago battle. The cat began to purr loudly. “Mr. Muffin might look a bit tattered, but he’s an exceptionally clean guy.”

“Yeah, I don’t know that being an exceptionally clean cat or guy makes up for the fact that his actual ass is sitting on my private thoughts,” Hwitaek shivered at the reality of all of his hopes and dreams and secrets being exposed to a cat’s butthole. “But that’s beside the point. Why is my notebook open? Were you reading it?”

Hyojong finally looked up, noticing the distress in Hwitaek’s voice, “I...I opened it to see if there was a name or phone number in it or something. I started to page through it because I didn’t see it at first.” 

“It’s on the front cover. On the inside. Lee Hwitaek. Right on the cover.” Hwitaek felt his cheeks redden in a complex combination of anger and embarrassment at what the man might have found in the pages of his notebook. “You didn’t have to read it. You didn’t have to go past the first page.”

Hyojong smiled in encouragement, “But this is really…” 

“Stop,” Hwitaek spoke firmly, his volume raised above his normally soft and somewhat high pitched speaking voice. “That’s not ok. Those are my private thoughts. You had no right to read them. Please give it to me.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to read so far into it. It’s just, I didn’t see the name on the cover at first so I started reading a little here and there and the lyrics were so…”

“I don’t want your thoughts on anything in there. Give it to me.” Hwitaek took the final few steps to the desk and leaned over, grabbing the corner of the pages and pulling it toward himself. The cat protested with a yowl and jumped from the desk to Hyojong’s lap. Hwitaek slammed the book closed and pulled it up to his chest, hugging it closely to himself. “Thanks for picking it up. I certainly hope it gave you a good laugh.” He turned abruptly and rushed out of the room and down the hall.

________________________________________________________________________

“But,” Hyojong, still seated with the giant, angry cat on his lap, looked out the door before addressing the animal with the thought he had been trying to finish, “it was really good. Really. Doesn’t he know that?”

The cat blinked and jumped from his lap to the floor, stalking out of the room after Hwitaek.

 


	3. So Damn Cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwitaek is less man than embarrassed...but mature enough to set that aside.

Jinho sat back on the futon kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him. “So he definitely read it?”

“He made notations. In pen,” Hwitaek whined, pushing Jinho’s legs to knock his feet off the table. “He read it. From what I can tell, he read all of it.” 

“huh. Guess I was wrong. For once.” Jinho nodded his head, putting his feet back up, clearly using Hwitaek’s distress to his advantage. “Guess he’s more of an asshole than I thought. But he only had it for a few hours and you’ve got a lot in there. How’d he read it that fast?”

“He said he was looking for a name or contact information so he could return it,” Hwitaek flipped to the front cover of the notebook and showed Jinho the inside, his name and phone number clearly written out. “Claimed he didn’t notice it on the front page.” He turned the notebook toward himself again. “I’m not even all that mad really. I mean, I would have read it too. It’s just so...personal.” 

“You’re embarrassed? Why the fuck would you be embarrassed? It’s song lyrics and drawings.” Jinho shrugged his shoulders and slumped further into the futon, pushing his legs further forward so they were more comfortable on the table. “You’re so good at that shit and he doesn’t have any clue what any of it means. Not really. Not like, the personal stuff”

Hwitaek rolled his eyes and leaned forward to shove Jinho’s legs again, “We eat on that table. Please try to keep your disgusting feet off of it.” He sat back in his chair and began leafing through the pages, one at a time. “What really sucks is that the notes aren’t even wrong. They’re so good. He knows what he’s talking about.” 

“What did he say?” Jinho asked, slouched even further into the futon, trying to get comfortable with his feet firmly planted on the floor. “Did he like it?” 

“It’s mostly constructive feedback. Like ‘move this’ and ‘change this word.’ I don’t know if he liked it.” He slammed the notebook closed with both hands and put it on the table in front of him. 

Jinho leaned forward and snagged it off the table. He opened it to the last dog eared page and ran his fingers over the handwritten lines. “I haven’t seen this one yet.” He read silently, his lips forming the words.”It’s about…”

“Shut up,” Hwitaek stiffened and shook his head emphatically, “I, in no way, want to talk about what it’s about.”

“Whatever. But there’s a note here. Well, not a note really, but a little drawing. A star.”

“What?” Hwitaek slid from his chair to sit on the floor next to Jinho’s feet. Jinho leaned forward to show the page to Hiwtaek. On the bottom of the page next to the last line was an ink drawing of a little star with lines in between each point as if the artist wanted to show how bright it shown. Hwitaek ran the tip of his index finger over the drawing. “I wonder what that means.”

“I think it’s kinda obvious that he liked it,” Jinho said, pulling the notebook back and flipped to the previous page. “This is another new one. There aren’t any notes, but you can see little dots from where his pen touched the pages at the end of each line. The dots are blue ink, you wrote in black.”  He flipped the page again, “Dude, the notes are good. It’s obvious he likes these.”

“Whatever,” Hwitaek grabbed the notebook from Jinho’s hands and closed it. “He didn’t write any opinions and we’ll never know what he was thinking. I don’t plan on going back there to find out.”

“What did the weird guy call him? We should look him up,” Jinho pulled his phone out of the pocket of his hoody. “It was Darwin? Daewon?”

“E’Dawn,” Hwitaek sighed, running his finger along the frayed edges of the well-worn pages, “He called him E’Dawn.”

“Well, shit.” Jinho said, holding out his phone to show Hwitaek the screen, “He’s a thing. He’s some underground rapper guy.” 

Hwitaek groaned, “Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them. “I knew he was cool.”

“You want to know what I think?” Jinho sat back against the futon and grabbed a pillow from beside him, hugging it to his chest. “I think it’s weird that you’re so freaked out about this. Yeah, it’s personal, but this is someone you never have to see again and you’re acting like your brother saw it or something. It’s not like he’s gonna make fun of you or hold it over your head at holiday dinners.” He leaned over on the futon to rest his head on a second pillow, slipping the first between his knees. “In fact, I think he really liked it and you’re crazy if you don’t go there and talk to him about his notes.” 

“No way. There is no way I can go back there. First, he’s basically read my journal and knows more about me than any stranger should,” he leaned his head back against Jinho’s thighs, now on the futon behind his head, “And second, I was kind of...rude. I might have stomped away. It might have looked like a tantrum.”

“Great. Go back and apologize. It’ll break the ice,” Jinho yawned widely, “Perfect icebreaker.”

“You’re an asshat,” Hwitaek lazily swatted Jinho without lifting his head, “That’s a shit icebreaker. ‘Hey, popular underground rapper, E’Dawn, sorry for being a rude prick, it’s cool that you read my private thoughts. You should tell me what you think. Judge me.’” 

“Whatever. You’re usually so freaking good with people. You’re so confident. Why do you suck with this guy?”

“I don’t suck with him. I don’t anything with him.” Hwitaek closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side in disagreement. “I’m just...I’m really not mad. I’m just...I don’t know.”

“If you like him that much, you should just go and apologize,” Jinho ran his fingers through Hwitaek’s hair, tugging at the strands gently. “Now tell me more about the cats. I want to see them.”

______________________________________________________________________

Hwitaek found himself, yet again, standing outside The Den, one hand on the door, hesitating to turn the knob. Jinho had been right. Of course. He really should get over himself and his embarrassment to get feedback from someone with experience in the field. He hadn’t really made the decision to put himself out there musically yet, he wasn’t even sure how he wanted to do that, as a singer or as a composer, but who was he to actively ignore someone that was providing feedback. It’s not like Hyojong, or E’Dawn, or whatever he preferred to be called, would even know what any of the lyrics were about. He wouldn’t know if they were real or if they were just made up sentiments. Hwitaek hoped that he would assume the latter was true. 

It was early evening as he pulled the door open. The coffee shop wasn’t crowded by any stretch of the imagination, but there were certainly more people filling the space than had been during his initial visit. There was a group of high school aged girls crowded around one of the couches, mugs scattered across the low table in front of them. The girls were dangling a piece of string for a pair of black and white kittens, squealing with delight each time a tiny paw batted at the toy. There were a couple of women, well put together and timeless in their slim fitting summer dresses, leaning over a small table, whispering to each other as one unconsciously circled a spoon around and around her drink. A young couple shared a large comfy chair, the cat that Chunggu had been holding on his first visit curled in their laps. 

Hwitaek stepped inside and surveyed the room, hoping to spot Hyojong quickly so he could get past the humiliating part and move on to the soul baring judgment portion of the agenda. He spotted Chunggu behind the display case, leaning on the counter with both elbows, seemingly deep in conversation with a man, another employee if the apron around his waist was any indication, standing on the customer side of the display. Hwitaek made to step toward the employees to ask them about their boss’s whereabouts when he spotted a flash of orange and white heading directly toward him. The cat that had attempted an escape previously was again rushing toward the door that he held open. He slammed the door closed just as the cat made it to his side. The animal stopped short and looked up at him with an expression that was equal parts blank and pure judgment. 

Hwitaek shrugged his shoulders at the cat before nodding toward the counter where Chunggu stood, “Don’t blame me. He’s the one that said you weren’t allowed out. I’m just following the rules.” 

The cat meowed in irritation before wending her way between Hwitaek’s legs, curling a tight figure eight around his ankles. He stared down at the animal and smiled at the show of ownership, if not affection.

“Whoa.” Chunggu said loudly from across the room, “That cat hates everyone.” 

Hwitaek looked up at the man and smiled, “Really? She’s so sweet though.”

The second employee turned around, setting the tiny cat he had been holding in his hands onto his shoulder, like a pirate with his parrot, “That’s not true. She likes plenty of people.”

“I was  _ trying  _ to make him feel special, Yanan. So he won’t run away again.” Chunggu rolled his eyes in exaggerated irritation.

“So this is him then? I knew he’d come back,” The one named Yanan smiled warmly at Hwitaek. “I assume you’re here for Hyojong, but he went out for a bit. He had some stuff to take care of. Why don’t you hang out and wait for him so we can finally get to know you.”

Hwitaek couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit more at ease when Yanan smiled at him. “Finally? Why would you want to get to know me?” He walked closer to the two men at the counter, running a hand through his hair. The orange and white cat followed him closely. 

“What’s important to Dawnie is important to us.” Chunggu chimed in, his mouth breaking into a rectangle shaped grin.

Yanan cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips as he looked at Chunggu, “He told you to call him Hyojong in real life.” The white, short haired kitten on his shoulder blinked its huge eyes. From this closer perspective, Hwitaek could see that it had one blue eye and one green. 

“I know, but Dawnie’s just so cute,” Chunggu turned to look pointedly at Hwitaek, “the name and the man.”

“Stop, Chunggu-ah, it’s not fair playing games with…” Yanan turned to look at Hwitaek, “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your real name yet. I only know you as Hyojong’s friend. Or his almost friend. Whatever.”

“I’m Hwitaek. Lee Hwitaek.” He held out his hand to shake Yanan’s in greeting. 

Yanan grabbed his outstretched fingers with both hands and pulled his hand toward himself, “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Hwitaek extricated his hand from Yanan’s grasp and looked from him to Chunggu in confusion, “I don’t understand. You’re acting like Hyojong and I are close, like you’ve been waiting to meet me. I only just met him yesterday.”

“Yeah, but he’s been talking…” Chunggu was interrupted by a sharp look from Yanan. “I mean, you looked kind of angry when you left yesterday. We were hoping you’d come back so we could apologize for whatever Dawnie did.”

“Oh,” Hwitaek, accepting the explanation as reasonable, stumbled over his own excuses as to why he had left in such a hurry, “He didn’t...well, he didn’t really do anything I wouldn’t have done. I was just...I overreacted.” 

“I’m sure whatever it was he did can be forgiven with a cup of coffee. On the house.” Chunggu said, smile brightening at his own idea.

“Oh no.” Yanan said, seeming to consider Hwitaek’s expression, “Coffee isn’t right. Make him a tarragon kombucha. That’ll do.”

Yanan’s seeming ability to just know things left Hwitaek bemused. He looked at the other man closely.

“I don’t just know things, you know. You would have come in here before if you liked coffee,” he shrugged, “You’ve walked by here often enough, you would have been tempted.”

____________________________________________________________________

“He wasn’t mad?” Hyojong asked again, for possibly the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes.

“No, Dawnie. Not at all,” Yanan soothed, “He loved the kombucha, and the orange cat loved him. How could he be mad?”

“We need to give the orange cat a name,” Chunggu said, setting a mug of herbal tea in front of Hyojong.

“She has a name. She just hasn’t told us yet.” Hyojong shrugged as he blew the steam away from his tea, “And stop calling me Dawnie. You’re just as bad as Chunggu.”

 


	4. So Damn Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong writes a cat pun and Hwitaek scares the crap out of him. Twice.

Hwitaek leaned over, standing on the tips of his toes, teetering a little, and grabbed Jinho’s phone from where it sat half hidden under an unused pillow on the far side of the bed. He slid it out with the tips of his fingers until he could grab it and straighten up. He pressed the home button and entered the six digit passcode without a thought. Jinho pretended to be a complex creature, but to Hwitaek, after years of friendship, he was almost as predictable as his own thoughts. He opened the alarm clock app and checked to make sure that at least three alarms were set within ten minutes of each other and that the volume was turned up as loud as it would go. Feeling assured that Jinho wouldn’t have any excuse for being late to class, Hwitaek set the phone on the bedside table, within reach, but not  _ easy  _ reach. 

He quietly moved through the apartment, dressing and readying his books and notebooks for his classes and the meeting with his advisor scheduled for the afternoon. He instinctively grabbed for the black notebook on his desk and started to tuck it into his backpack. Pausing before dropping it into the bag, he ran his thumb of the cover and then pulled it back out, flipping to the last used page. He read through the lyrics of the song he had written about, well, to be honest with himself, about his feelings for and impressions of a man he had had no intention of ever meeting in person. Observations about a man he was now, for the third time, going to seek out regarding this notebook. He finished reading the words and stared at the small drawing by the last line. He tentatively touched the star, tracing the lines with his fingertip before catching himself being moony eyed at the drawing. He quickly closed the notebook and stuffed it into the backpack. 

He mostly only acknowledged his opinions about Hyojong’s general look to Jinho, about how Hwitaek considered him to be undeniably one of the most attractive and interesting people he had ever seen. But in reality, he had been spending an awful lot of time trying to build a complete picture of the man through what he had been able to gleen in the short spaces of time as he walked past the coffee shop. He knew, for instance, that though he seemed to have a big personality and he laughed with his mouth open wide, he let out very little sound when he really found something amusing. Hwitaek could also tell, by the way, Hyojong looked so intently at whatever it was he was doing or whomever it was he was talking to, that he was a focused person. He knew that being on the receiving end of that focus would take his breath away. He was not at all sure he could sit across from the man, or beside him, as they objectively tore apart his own personal feelings.

Hwitaek shoved his feet into sneakers and left the apartment, locking the door securely, before stepping out into the early morning street. There was very little traffic on the road and everything seemed softer and almost hazy in the humid morning sunlight. Hwitaek walked several blocks down the street before turning the corner toward The Den. He stopped in his tracks to watch Hyojong drag the chalkboard sign out of the coffee shop and set it up near the entrance. The man wore a baggy, long-sleeved shirt and slim fitting knee-length denim shorts. His red apron was tied around his waist, accentuating how narrow he was beneath the oversized top. Hwitaek saw him pull what was presumably a piece of chalk from his apron pocket and start writing up the day’s specials including a ridiculous cat pun involving the word catpuccino on the board. How he had missed the fact that this was, in fact, a cat cafe, was beyond him. He was frankly ashamed of himself. 

Hwitaek took a fortifying breath and walked toward the entrance to the cafe, eyes focused on Hyojong, stopping short only when he realized he was dangerously close to entering the other man’s personal space. He stood for a moment, waiting to be noticed and observing the way Hyojong pushed bleached hair back behind his ear and hummed to himself as he drew a tiny cat’s paw in the bottom corner of the sign as if it were his signature. Hwitaek reached out with his right hand to tap Hyojong on the shoulder and startled as the other man straightened himself before he had been able to make contact. 

Hyojong stuffed the chalk back into his pocket, brushed his hands together to remove the chalk dust, and turned on his heel to re-enter the coffee shop. He nearly stepped into Hwitaek’s outstretched arm as if entering into a welcoming embrace. Hwitaek’s eyes widened and stepped back, lowering his arm. Hyojong stumbled, bumping into the sign, smearing what he had just written.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry!” Hwitaek yelped, reaching out again, this time to grab Hyojong’s shoulder, making sure he stayed on his feet. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” Hyojong breathed, grabbing at his chest as if to hold back his beating heart, “Are you are a ghost? Who the fuck is that quiet?”

“I’m not...I wasn’t trying to be…” Hwitaek wasn’t sure how to explain his presence, that he hadn’t intended on sneaking up on Hyojong. “I was just walking over here and you turned...I’m sorry.”

Hyojong blinked hard as if finally taking in who was standing in front of him, “It’s ok. It’s fine,” a smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve been setting up this sign almost every morning for over two years. This is the first time someone has been behind me when I turned around.”

“I’m sorry. I...well, I was coming to apologize and I guess I have to be sorry twice now.” Hwitaek pressed his lips together in a hard line, quickly realizing that he was still holding onto Hyojong’s shoulder. He released his grip, trailing the tips of his fingers down the white cotton shirt.

Hyojong looked down at Hwitaek’s hand, gently rubbing over the fabric of his shirt, “Um?”

Hwitaek yanked his hand away, curling it into a fist at his chest, “What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered to himself, looking at the offending hand. “Look, I’m sorry for how I acted the last time I was here.” He looked up at Hyojong, not quite sure what reaction to expect from the other man, but certainly not anticipating what he saw. 

Hyojong, his right hand now holding his own left shoulder as if hanging on to the heat that Hwitaek’s hand had left there, was smiling at him almost shyly, “I accept your apology for scaring me, but, I think I should be the one apologizing.” 

Scrunching his forehead, Hwitaek look at Hyojong in confusion, “You apologize to me? I was the one that got angry. I overreacted. I was rude. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Hyojong dropped his hand to his side and squinted his eyes, “You were right. I shouldn’t have read the notebook. It wasn’t mine.” He paused for a second as if to think through his next words carefully, making sure he was communicating his intent clearly, “But I’m not sorry that I read  _ that  _ notebook.” 

Hwitaek took one step back, the words not quite making sense to him at first, “You’re sorry, but not sorry?” He asked, looking for clarification, not quite sure how to take the semi-apology. 

“Yeah,” Hyojong shrugged one shoulder and cocked his head to the side, “I mean, I shouldn’t have read it without asking, but I’m glad I got the chance to read it. I’m guessing you wouldn’t have given me permission if I hadn’t just done it.”

Hwitaek nodded in confirmation.

“So yeah, I don’t apologize for reading this particular set of words. They wanted to be read. They deserved to be read.” Hyojong smiled, looking proud of himself for making even a modicum of sense.

“You...did you really like it?” Hwitaek looked at his own feet as he asked the question. 

“Are you serious?” Hyojong ducked down, trying to catch Hwitaek’s eyes with his own, “Are you a music major? You must be doing well in school, that stuff is great.” 

“You had a lot of comments, a lot of edits.” Hwitaek avoided Hyojong’s gaze, shifting around the other man to straighten the sign, grabbing the cuff of his shirt to pull the sleeve taut against his arm using it as an eraser to clean the smudged chalk. 

Hyojong reached out and laid his hand gently on Hwitaek’s outstretched arm, pushing it away from the board, “You’ll fuck up your shirt. I have a rag for that.” He pulled a white cloth from where it had been tucked into his apron string and stepped between Hwitaek and the sign to wipe the messed up writing from the sign. “And yeah, I had some suggestions. Nothing major. Like almost nothing. Just suggestions, nothing needed to be changed. I shouldn’t have written on your stuff.”

“You should. Actually, that’s part of why I’m here. I want to hear your feedback.” Hwitaek stepped around Hyojong so he stood next to the sign within his line of sight. “I brought my notebook. If you have time...Could you look at it with me?”

“Don’t you have professors for that?” Hyojong looked over at Hwitaek, his eyebrows drawn together.

“I’m a finance major. I have plenty of professors, but not one of them would give good feedback on lyrics,” Hwitaek smirked dryly, “Not one.”

“Are you serious?” Hyojong looked at him, his expression shifting to one of disbelief, “You have that kind of talent and you’re studying money?”

“It’s more complicated than just money, but yeah, I’m good with numbers.” He pursed his lips for a second and then continued, “And my parents prefer that I get a more, uh, profitable degree.” 

Hyojong sighed, “What a waste.”

“Excuse me?” Hwitaek cringed, taking offense to the aside.

“Oh, shit,” Hyojong’s eyebrows shot up, “I didn’t mean anything. It’s just, I do a little music stuff and I wish I had your kind of talent with lyrics. It’s a waste that you do, that you are so talented, but you aren’t going to use it.” As if listening to his own words tumble of out of his mouth, Hyojong tried to course correct, “I mean, not that you have to write lyrics. I mean, you’re probably great with numbers too. I’m sure you love money...or finance or whatever.”

Hwitaek snorted, interrupting Hyojong to save him from himself, “Stop. I think I get what you mean. Money’s good. I like it well enough, but finance is boring. I don’t...well, I’m not sure I want to do it forever. I’m thinking of switching. I think I’d rather do music. I just have to figure out how to tell my parents.” He reached out to Hyojong and tugged at the hem of his apron, “Give me feedback?”

“Oh,” Hyojong bit at his bottom lip, “You really want to go through it together? You aren’t mad?”

“I was mad. Then I was embarrassed.” Hwitaek shrugged, “But I guess I realized that I should just suck it up and take the feedback from someone that knows what they’re talking about.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hyojong looked sheepish, “I think I’d like anything you wrote. I don’t know how helpful I’ll be.”

“You’d like anything…?” Hwitaek felt a blush rising in his cheeks and his stomach tightening in the telltale sign that he was putting too much stock into a single off-hand comment.

Hyojong rubbed the back of his neck, “Nevermind that.” He dropped his hand to reach out to the door of the coffee shop, “Come in. I’ll get you a drink and we can chat. I mean, I assume you meant now, right? You don’t have someplace to be?”

“Now’s perfect. I have a couple of hours before I have to be on campus.” Hwitaek moved toward the now open door and stepped inside. He turned back to Hyojong, still standing outside, holding the door ajar, “You should probably close that. The orange cat seems to want to escape pretty badly.” 

As if on cue, the cat leaped from the back cushions of one of the chairs and walked towards the entrance, stepping slowly, one foot in front of the other. Instead of darting out the door, she began to wend her way around Hwitaek’s ankles, pressing her face into his leg at each pass. 

“I don’t think she was trying to escape, I think she was running to greet you.” Hyojong entered the building and pulled the door closed behind himself. “You’re a lucky man, I think she has a crush.”

Hwitaek leaned over to pet the cat’s head, his backpack riding up his shoulders, but not quite knocking him on the head, “I guess there’s someone for everyone. I must be lucky that my someone is so bold. I’m a little jealous of her ability to just put it out there.” The cat pushed into each of his strokes, almost jumping up with her front paws to meet his fingers. He picked her up into his arms and cradled her against his chest, “What’s her name anyway?” He looked over at Hyojong who was watching him with what could only be described as a contemplative expression. 

“She hasn’t told us yet,” he replied with a wistful smile, “I think she was waiting for someone to come along and figure it out. Any ideas?” 

“Me? You want me to name the cat?” Hwitaek looked back down at the animal in his arms and rubbed his forefinger along the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes at the pleasure of the contact, “She’s so demanding and perfect, like a little princess. I couldn’t possibly pick the right name.”

“You sure?” the wistfulness left Hyojong’s smile as it widened into a grin, “I think you know what it is.”

“I’ll...I’ll think about it.” Hwitaek couldn’t help but smile back. He was surprised at how quirky Hyojong was. From a distance, the man had seemed immeasurably cool, like the physical embodiment of all of his own fantasies, but now, after talking with him, after getting to know him just a little bit, he realized that he was actually quite different than he had first appeared, he was  a little hesitant or unsure, kind of odd, but so much more approachable than Hwitaek had anticipated. It was, frankly, a little dangerous for his poor heart.

“So,” Hyojong rocked onto his heels, rubbing his hands together, “Yanan said that you don’t like coffee. You want some tea?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, that sounds great,” he set the cat back on the floor and moved to a table with two chairs. Hyojong went behind the counter and busied himself with preparing the tea, covering both mugs with a lid to let it steep for a specific amount of time before joining Hwitaek at the table where he sat thumbing through the notebook.

“So, can we start with the last song? It’s my favorite,” Hyojong asked in a tentative voice, keeping his eyes trained on the mug in front him. “It...well, it kind of hit me in the gut a little.”

“Hit you in the gut? That sounds...violent,” Hwitaek scrunched his forehead, flipping to the page to read the lines despite knowing each one by heart, despite the fact that this particular song was an especially honest look at his own feelings.

“Isn’t that what one-sided love is? Kind of violent?” Hyojong looked up at Hwitaek through his lashes, “I mean, it’s pretty clear you’ve been through it...” he looked down at his mug again, “Or, are going through it. Doesn’t it hurt? Doesn’t it rip you up a little?”

Hwitaek swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He wanted to look away from Hyojong, the object of his own personal, violent crush, but he couldn’t. “You want to be near the person, but it’s too much at the same time, knowing that the person really doesn’t even know you exist.”

“Exactly.” Hyojong looked up at Hwitaek again, his eyes shining a little bit more than they should have been inside the coffee shop. 

“You’ve had a one-sided love?” Hwitaek asked, his heart squeezing a little in his chest, not really wanting to know that answer.

“Have,” Hyojong answered, looking away from Hwitaek again, turning in his chair to look at the counter over his shoulder as if checking up on something. After a beat, he turned back, his face a little more composed.

Hwitaek’s stomach dropped. Of course Hyojong had someone he loved. And of course that someone probably did love him back. They’d figure it out. They’d end up together. How could someone not be in love with Hyojong as soon as they saw him? “I, uh, I actually think that I do have something I need to do right now. I completely forgot about a thing.” He pushed back his chair with the backs of his legs as he stood up, almost tipping it to the floor. 

Hyojong’s eyebrows drew together in confusion and what looked a little like disappointment. His face fell. “Did I do something wrong? Did I say something?”

“No.” Hwitaek tried to smile brightly, “Not at all. I really forgot that I have a thing today…a meeting with my advisor.”  It wasn’t a lie, even if the meeting was 7 hours from now. “Are you here this evening? Can I come back?”

“I have to...Nevermind, I’ll be here. I’ll be here this evening, no problem. We can talk in my office if that’s more comfortable. Or I guess, if you’d rather not, we can meet out here. Whichever.” Hyojong seemed to feel like he’d made a mistake but couldn’t quite pinpoint what he’d done wrong. 

“Ok. Let’s plan on that then. Either in your office or out here. Just, you know, later.” He put his notebook back into his bag and zipped it closed before throwing it over his shoulder. “Sorry. Again. I keep having to apologize.” He huffed out a dissatisfied breath knowing that his behavior around Hyojong was uncharacteristically pathetic. 

“I don’t want you to keep feeling sorry,” Hyojong said, “It’s ok. Ok?”

“Ok,” Hwitaek reached the door and pulled it open a little. He turned to look back at Hyojong, still sitting at the table. He was looking down at his mug again, both hands resting on his lap. Hwitaek’s chest hurt. “Hey,” he said to catch Hyojong’s attention, the other man looked up at him, “I’ll be back. And...I guess, it’ll work out.  You’re one-sided love. It’ll work out.” He tried to smile again, his face feeling tight.

Hyojong pulled his thin lips together in a straight line before speaking, “Thanks for that, but I’m pretty sure he already has someone. Or he will soon.”

____________________________________________

“I scared him away,” Hyojong sat with his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table.

“You didn’t scare him away.” Yanan soothed him, rubbing between his shoulder blades, “He probably really did have something he needed to do.”

“It doesn’t sound like you were super obvious.” Changgu said, sitting back in the chair across from Hyojong, “I mean, it’s not like you said ‘You. I love you. Please love me.’”

“Not helpful, Changgu.” Yanan scolded, he turned back to Hyojong, “He said he’d be back. Even if he did figure it out, he can’t be that freaked out.”

“Unless he’s just buying time to figure out how to tell me to fuck off.” Hyojong let his face slide between his hands until his forehead was resting on the table. “He’s obviously in love with someone else. The whole song was about it. I should stay away. It’s stupid. I don’t even really know him.”

“You know him. You’ve always known him. Every time he walked by the coffee shop, every morning, you’ve gotten to know him even better.” Yanan smiled, “You’re obviously soulmates.”

“You’re a disgusting romantic, Yanan.” Changgu groaned. “But he’s right, Dawnie, you know him, even if you don’t know him. And he’s cool. And he’ll be cool no matter what.”

“I hate this.” Hyojong slid one of his arms under his face as a pillow and closed his eyes. “I really hate this.”

  
  



	5. So Damn Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory misunderstanding.  
> And Jinho falls in love with everything.

Hwitaek felt like an ass. Of course Hyojong had someone to love. Of course he had a whole life outside of the tiny interactions and impressions Hwitaek had been able to observe in the early morning hours, or on his walks home after class, casting sidelong glances at the coffee shop. In those bits that he’d observed, he had figured out that Hyojong was close with the other employees. It was obvious that he was the one in charge, but it was also clear that the staff and customers had a lot of affection for the man. Hwitaek would hear shouted greetings, snippets of teasing conversations, and full-bodied laughter. Hyojong just looking cool had been what had drawn Hwitaek in, watching how he interacted with the world in his place of business was what had him coming back for more. 

So yes, he was on his way to the cafe again. He’d left the coffee shop in a rush that morning, unable to processes that he was actually sitting down with Hyojong. He’d been overwhelmed with the notion that his crush was giving him feedback on his lyrics, that Hyojong had been reading the song that was about Hwitaek’s feelings for him. On top of all of that, it was simply too much to take in that Hyojong had known the lyrics were genuine, even if he hadn’t realized they were about him, and that he had identified with them. So he was going back again, back to the coffee shop, to try to behave like a normal human being, get some feedback, and hopefully find something about Hyojong that he didn’t like.  Maybe then he could focus on that and end this thing before he was completely in love and thoroughly disappointed. 

He turned the volume up on his music, the noise-canceling earbuds pressed firmly into place, and let his feet lead him to the coffee shop as if by muscle memory. He knew that he shouldn’t overthink it or he’d talk himself out of going and fall back into the habit of basically stalking the poor guy. And now that Hyojong and the other staff knew who he was, it wouldn’t be easy to stay incognito. It would be so obvious. No, it was best that he just go back, finish the conversation they had started that morning, and put some closure on whatever it was that was happening. Closure was good. Closure was for the best. 

This time, Hwitaek pulled open the door to The Den without hesitation. He yanked it open and stepped inside, letting it close behind him quickly. His eyes immediately scanned the room for the orange and white cat. There was something about the lovely little animal that blurred the edges of his focus, distracted him just enough that he felt like he could handle the situation without making a complete fool of himself again. He looked toward the couches in the back of the room, saw the cat lazily lift her head at the sound of the door opening, acknowledge his presence, and slowly stand. She pulled herself into a full luxurious stretch before gracefully leaping from the couch and trotting over to him.  

“Sweet Princess,” he cooed at the cat, pulling the earbuds out and squatting down to run his fingers around her ears, letting her press her face into his palms, leaving her unique scent on his skin so other cats would know that he had been claimed. “Pretty little thing, did you miss me?”

A familiar voice answered the rhetorical question, “Well, I know I missed you.”

Hwitaek flinched, jerking his hand away from the cat, “What the hell, Jinho-Hyung?”

“I figured you came here this morning so I  _ assumed  _ it was finally ok for me to come in and try the coffee and snuggle these perfect little creatures,” Hwitaek’s best friend was sitting at one of the tables, his backpack slumped on the floor next to his chair and one of his books sitting unopened on the table in front of him. The tiny Devon Rex kitten that had been on Yanan’s shoulder when he had visited the time before last was curled up in his arms like a minuscule infant.  “And I’m so very glad I did.”

“You like it that much?” Hwitaek asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the sight of his adorably surly hyung cradling the tiny creature.

“Fuck no,” he answered, “This cat’s too needy, so my coffee got cold before I could drink it. I hate it.”

“You know you could put it down, right?” Hwitaek let the smile grow on his lips, “It could just as easily sleep on the couch or one of the soft chairs or something.”

“You heartless bastard,” Jinho shook his head in disgust, “It would freeze to death without my body heat.”

“Hyung, it’s totally warm in here.” Hwitaek stood up from where he had been crouching and slid his backpack from his shoulders as he walked to Jinho’s table, tossing the bag to the floor as he pushed out the chair opposite his friend.

“Shut your loud mouth, you’ll wake the baby,” Jinho huffed, “And why the hell didn’t you tell me about the staff here? They are so worth the price of admission.”

“What are you talking about?” Hwitaek looked over his shoulder at the counter where Changgu and Yanan were bickering over the placement of baked goods in the display case. 

“Well, they totally knew who I was, not my name or anything, but they knew I was your friend,” Jinho gestured toward the two with his head, obviously not wanting to move his hands, “And when the tall one asked if I wanted tea or some shit, the other tall one said that I needed coffee.” 

“Everyone is tall to you, Hyung, It’s not a distinguishing descriptor,” Hwitaek pointed out, pushing his chair back to open his lap in an invitation to the orange and white cat. She jumped up, standing uncomfortably for a minute before settling into a loose ball. Hwitaek began to absently run his palm along the curve of her spine. 

“Everyone is tall to me, it’s what makes me so special,” Jinho sighed, “How did he know I wanted coffee?”

“Because you always look grumpy when you walk by in the morning,” Yanan answered from the other side of the room. “It was obvious you wanted to stop.”

“Is he like a psychic or something?” Jinho stage whispered, leaning toward Hwitaek conspiratorially. “And the other one is the most unintentionally hilarious person I have ever seen in my life. I kind of don’t hate them.”

“I heard that,” Changgu complained, “and my hilarity is completely intentional.”

“I don’t think you’re funny for the reasons you think you’re funny,” Jinho shot back happily. “This place is amazing. We are now going to be regulars and we will both get what we wanted - coffee for me and that guy for you.”

Hwitaek’s eyes widened in warning, “Shut up, Hyung.” His hand stilled on the cat’s back and she looked up at him in annoyance, only laying back down when he started petting her again. “Look, that’s not going to be a thing. He has someone.” He hissed at his friend, hoping the others hadn’t heard Jinho joking.

Jinho smirked, one side of his mouth lifting into a half smile, “Oh, you’re totally wrong about…”

“Orange Basil Kombucha for our guest,” Yanan set a tulip shaped glass on the table in front of Hwitaek.

Hwitaek’s head shot up, looking at Yanan, “I didn’t order anything yet.”

“I know,” Yanan shrugged before turning to Jinho, “Let’s let things play out naturally, hyung, ok? 

“I like your style, Psychic.” Jinho smiled, “Can I get a top off on the coffee? Heat it up?”

“If you buy another coffee, you’ll get another coffee,”  Changgu shouted from behind the counter, Yanan shrugged one shoulder and turned on his heel, heading back to the counter.

“It’s  _ your  _ cat’s fault my coffee sucks!” Jinho shouted after him, disturbing the kitten, “And now it’s your fault the cat’s awake.” He shook his head, turning to look back at Hwitaek, “I think I love this place.”

Hwitaek took a sip of the kombucha, the sharp flavor of the fermented drink sliding over his tongue, the bubbles tickling his nose, a pleasant shiver ran down his spine, “How does he know I’ll even like this stuff?”

“He just knows,” Jinho said solemnly, eyes and hands focused on the kitten, soothing it back to sleep. 

“Don’t get too attached. I’m going to get the feedback, figure out what I don’t like about Hyojong, and stop coming here. You don’t get to come back either,” Hwitaek whispered, trying to prevent Yanan and Changgu from hearing his words, “Bro-code.”

“We don’t have a bro-code. We have never had a bro-code,” Jinho said, looking up, his eyebrows raised.

“We do now.” Hwitaek hissed. 

Jinho shook his head, “Don’t go looking for things to dislike. That’s a shitty way to make friends.”

“I’m not trying to make friends, I’m trying to get over this...whatever this is,” Hwitaek sighed 

“Why get over it?” Jinho seemed to look over Hwitaek’s shoulder, eyes darting toward the counter and then back at his face.

Hwitaek shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, “I told you, he’s into someone else.” He said quietly, looking down at the cat on his lap. He looked up again, speaking more clearly and with renewed confidence in his plan of action, “It doesn’t matter, I’m going to get the feedback and figure out what I don’t like about him. We never need to come back again.”

“Oh,” a voice spoke from behind Hwitaek, “I see…”

“Shit.” Hwitaek exhaled without turning around, “He’s there. Hyojong is there. Asshole.”

“Now I’m an asshole?” Hyojong sounded hurt.

Hwitaek spun in his chair, dislodging the sleeping cat, “No! No, Jinho’s the asshole. God, I’m so sorry! You weren’t meant to hear that.”

“Ah. I’m not the asshole, but there’s something about me that you don’t like.” Hyojong looked as sad as his voice had sounded. “I get it. It’s cool. I can just email you the feedback or something. You don’t have to hang out here if it’s that uncomfortable for you.”

“God, no, shit,” Hwitaek was just saying things now, nonsensical words just rolling off his tongue as he struggled to put together a coherent sentence. “I mean, it’s not what it sounded like. I’m terrible with words.”

“Dawnie, stop being so dramatic,” Changgu said, rounding the counter to come to the table. “I think you’re really misunderstanding…”

“Call me Hyojong, Changgu,” Hyojong interrupted, seemingly out of habit. 

“Hyojong, I really didn’t mean it like it sounded.” Hwitaek stood from his chair, rubbing his now sweating palms on his thighs, “I...I’m just trying to create some distance. I’m trying not too...I want to respect...I just don’t want to get my hopes up knowing that you’re…” he couldn’t finish a thought.

“What are you talking about?” Hyojong asked, brow furrowed. “What distance? What respect?”

Hwitaek took a deep breath, “Look, I want to respect the fact that you have someone you like.” He paused, feeling the humiliation of the moment wash over him, trying to take note of the emotions objectively so they wouldn’t sting quite so fully. “This isn’t the fastest route to campus from our apartment. I’ve been...I like to...It’s stupid.”

“Wait. What?” Hyojong looked at Hwitaek, confused by the half thoughts.

“God, you’re thick,” Changgu rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Shut up, Changgu,” Yanan swatted the back of the other man’s head with his palm, “give him a chance, he’ll get there.”

“This is so uncomfortable. I don’t think I love it here anymore.” Jinho said eyes moving between Hwitaek and Hyojong and back again, “No. No, I think I’m just hungry.” 

Hwitaek couldn’t take his eyes off Hyojong, he wanted desperately to look away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Look. I’ll say this once and then I’ll save us both some embarrassment and I’ll leave.” He pressed his lips together tightly, closing his eyes for just a second to create some space so he could think, “I’ve been walking past here every day because I noticed you. I saw you once and you were so...amazing. I kept walking past because you just got better. I couldn’t stop. And then you found my notebook and you read it and I was...confused. I’m sorry. I...I’ll go.”

He grabbed his backpack from the floor and quickly moved toward the door. Hyojong stood, stunned, not even watching him leave the coffee shop. 

________________________________________________________________

“Hey, boss?” Changgu poked Hyojong in the side, “You gonna go after him?”

“Did he just…?” Hyojong turned to Yanan for confirmation.

“He did.” Yanan’s smile stretched wide across his face, “He really did.”

Hyojong turned to Jinho, “You’re his friend.”

“Best friend,” Jinho clarified, “and yes, he’s been pining after you like some lovestruck idiot for months.”

“So the song? The last song?” Hyojong asked.

“God, you people are amazing. I’m coming here every day.” Jinho shook his head, “Yes, the last song is about you.”

“Me?” Hyojong laughed, “I thought...I was sure...I was just going to be supportive so I could be around him...”

“Dawnie, you’re sitting here being all happy and your boy is probably crying in some alley,” Jinho said, reaching out with his free hand to grab his cold coffee, taking a swallow. “And this shit is really terrible. Just get me another coffee, Psychic.”

  
  
  



	6. So Damn Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong's boy really is crying in an alley somewhere

Hwitaek broke into a jog as soon as the door to the Den closed behind him. He didn’t want to go home because he was absolutely certain that Jinho would follow him there and he really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. But he wasn’t entirely sure where else he should go so he just ran until he found a dark corner to turn down. He stood in the middle of the alley, panting heavily and took in as much as he could see without streetlights. His vision began to blur.

“Fuck,” he growled, wiping tears from his eyes, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He turned and slammed his palms against the stone wall of the building on his left. He hit it with open hands, harder than he should, not as hard as he wanted to, several times before dropping his hands to his sides and letting his backpack fall down his arms, landing on the ground. He turned and fell against the wall, the force of the movement pushing a puff of air from his lungs. He slid down the wall, his jacket riding up, until his butt hit the hard, dirty ground. He let his face fall into his hands and just sat there feeling lost, humiliated, and relieved. At least he had admitted his feelings and gotten out of there before Hyojong had the opportunity to look at him with pity in his eyes. 

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears. There was really no reason to cry, there was absolutely no reason to feel like this. He didn’t know Hyojong that well, not really. He never needed to see him again, and it was just a crush, so he should be able to get over it pretty quickly. Hwitaek tried to organize his thoughts, remaining objective, putting everything into perspective to help himself calm down. 

After a few minutes, Hwitaek had pulled himself together enough to drop his hands from his face. He caught sight of the backpack sitting by his feet and pulled it toward himself, unzipping the main pocket. The black notebook sat on top of the pile of books, taunting him with the feelings he had written in it and the notes and comments Hyojong had left for him. He pulled out the notebook and flipped to the last song, running his fingers along each line as he read it to himself. When he finished the last line he gripped the single sheet of paper between his fingers and ripped it out of the notebook. He set the notebook down on top of the backpack and held the song in between his hands, eyes focusing on the small star drawn on the bottom of the page. His lips pulled into a sneer and he repositioned the paper to rip it in half.

“No, don’t do that!” Hyojong shouted from the mouth of the alley, “That’s mine!”

Hwitaek’s head snapped up at the noise, the page slipping between his fingers and fluttering to the ground. He watched as it landed next to him before looking back up at Hyojong, “Yours?”

“Of course,” Hyojong walked toward him, stopping to stand over him, “You can’t write a song about someone and not expect them to feel some sort of ownership over it.” He leaned over and snagged the page from the ground before turning to lean against the wall, sliding down to sit next to Hwitaek, “We should talk.”

“I figured out her name,” Hwitaek cut in, trying to avoid the inevitable conversation.

“Name?” Hyojong asked, confused by the statement.

“The cat,” Hwitaek clarified. “Her name is Princess.” 

“Ah, yes, the orange cat.” Hyojong smiled to himself, looking down at where his hands gripped the song. “She really loves you.”

Hwitaek nodded, feeling his heart tighten at the idea that at least the cat loved him, even if the owner didn’t. 

“She’s not the only one,” Hyojong continued, turning to look at Hwitaek, “I mean, not the only one that has strong feelings for you.”

Hwitaek turned his face away, not wanting Hyojong to see the tears once again forming in his eyes. He pursed his lips together, afraid of what he might say if he were to let himself speak.

“Hey,” Hyojong reached out and gently put his fingers on Hwitaek’s chin, turning his head so he could see the other man’s face. “Please don’t cry. I never, ever want to be the reason you cry.”

“You don’t have to do this. It’s not your fault,” Hwitaek sighed deeply and wiped the moisture from one of his eyes. Hyojong let go of his chin and wiped the tear from under the other eye with his thumb. 

“You’re wrong. It is my fault,” Hyojong shook his head, his eyes searching Hwitaek’s face, “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I was just kind of confused. It takes me a minute sometimes...to process.”

“Please, I get it, I don’t want to talk about it,” Hwitaek pulled away from Hyojong, “You don’t have to be nice to me.” 

“But I want to be nice to you. I want to be more than nice to you,” Hyojong smiled. “I want to tell you a story, just a little one. You got to tell me what you feel and then ran away, I think I get to have this.”

Hwitaek nodded, dropping his gaze to his hands so he wouldn’t have to see Hyojong’s pleased expression. He was right, of course, he did owe him that much for running away like that.

“I have a million things I want to do with my life. I love performing, I love animals, and I need to eat, so I need something that actually pays a little too. Changgu actually suggested opening the cafe, and Yanan gave me the idea about including the cats. I kept finding them and I couldn’t leave them on the street, they used to get so annoyed with me,” Hyojong chuckled at the memory. “Anyway, no surprise to anyone that knows me, but I actually hate early mornings. Having to open up a business so early every day was a nightmare. I hated it.” He leaned over, making eye contact with Hwitaek, “Wanna know what changed that?”

Hwitaek shrugged but stayed quiet.

“A few months ago, I was setting up the board in front of the cafe and I saw the most beautiful person I had ever seen walk past. He didn’t look over at me, he didn’t even notice me, but I noticed him. The next day, he walked past again.” Hyojong looked away from Hwitaek, his eyes unfocused, remembering. “He kept walking past and I started to look forward to mornings, to seeing him. Sometimes he was with his friend and they would be talking and laughing, and playing around. When he smiled, it was like the whole world lit up,” Hyojong smiled wistfully. “Sometimes he was alone, but he never looked lonely, just lost in thought. I think I loved those mornings the best. It was almost like I could understand what he was thinking about just by looking at him. I felt like, in a very small way, that I was getting to know him. I was definitely falling for him.”

Hwitaek felt his heart clench, wanting to believe, but not really believing what he was hearing. 

“So, yeah, I fell pretty hard, but he never came into the cafe. There was never a good way to talk to him without looking like a creepy stalker. Until one day. The day he fell near the cafe and dropped all of the stuff from his bag,” Hyojong looked over at Hwitaek. 

“Pushed. I didn’t fall, Jinho pushed me,” Hwitaek clarified. He drew his eyebrows together as he took in the story of Hyojong’s one-sided love. 

“I got to talk to him that day and it was amazing. I wasn’t very helpful, but at least I got to invite him to come into the cafe. That was something, right? I broke the ice,” Hyojong seemed proud of himself. “He didn’t come in, but he left a notebook behind. I know it wasn’t right. I know I was being nosy and selfish, but I read it. I had to. I had to know more about him. At first, I was just looking for his name, your name, but then I couldn’t stop. He had so much written in there, so much about himself, that I couldn’t stop. When I read the last song, I actually cried. I loved it. It was exactly what I was feeling about him, and he was feeling it about someone else. It made me happy and sad at the same time.”

“It wasn’t about someone else,” Hwitaek whispered, tears forming in his eyes again.

“Shhhhhh, my story,” Hyojong stopped him from speaking. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes while continuing his narration, “I tried really hard to just be cool about it all, so that I would keep seeing him around. I just wanted to make him happy, but I think I kept fucking up. He kept coming to the cafe, but he always left angry.” He opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at Hwitaek again, “but I think I misunderstood. I think I got it wrong.”

“You got it wrong,” Hwitaek confirmed, “You got it really wrong.”

“I’m glad,” Hyojong sighed, “I have never been so glad to be wrong in my whole life.”

“I got it wrong too,” Hwitaek pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it for a few seconds, “I didn’t think...I thought…”

“You got it wrong too,” Hyojong let out a quiet laugh. 

“So?” Hwitaek asked.

“So,” Hyojong answered. He pushed himself off the wall and shifted so he was facing Hwitaek. He leaned forward, bringing his face within inches of Hwitaek’s, “Let’s get it right.”

A laugh erupted from Hwitaek’s lips, “That was so bad. That was really, really bad.” 

“Oh, I could do way worse, you should be happy I held back,” Hyojong’s eyes danced happily, “Can I...Is it ok if I…?”

“For crying out loud, kiss me!” Hwitaek pushed off the wall with his hands, moving himself forward so his lips connected with Hyojong’s. Hyojong stilled for a beat, seemingly surprised by the kiss. He regained his composure quickly, bringing his hands to Hwitaek’s face, cupping it between his palms as deepened the kiss. 

Breathless, Hwitaek broke away, resting his forehead against Hyojong’s, “How did you even find me?”

“Jinho said you’d be crying in an alley somewhere. I thought I should check all the alleys first since he knows you so well,” he shifted, pressing a quick kiss against Hwitaek’s mouth and another on the tip of Hwitaek’s nose, “He really does know you.”

“He doesn’t know me that well,” Hwitaek complained, pushing away from Hyojong without any real conviction.

“Ummm, he was right though,” Hyojong laughed, lacing his fingers through the hair on the back of Hwitaek’s head, holding him close, “You were here.”

“Whatever. And please don’t talk about Jinho when you should be kissing me.” Hwitaek grumbled, “Ever.”

“That’s a promise,” Hyojong pulled Hwitaek in and kissed him again.

  
  



	7. So Damn Sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwitaek finally gets over the dithering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to KpopontheDL for helping me get the words right this time around.

It had been thirty-six hours since they had finally talked through their misunderstanding in the alley, thirty-six hours since they had kissed, and deepened the kiss, and then separated to go do what it was life demanded that they do when reality filtered back into their little bubble. They had texted back and forth a couple of times, just checking in, over the intervening hours. However, Hwitaek had an exam to study for and Hyojong had a business to run and a new song to finish before a show later in the week, so they hadn’t seen each other since they had walked back to The Den and Hwitaek had left for the apartment with Jinho. The memory of their conversation and confessions was starting to blur around the edges and Hwitaek was feeling reluctant to return to the coffee shop for their scheduled date. If it was a date. It was at The Den and they were planning to actually talk about the notebook and the lyrics, and possibly even talk about ideas for recording a song. So maybe it wasn’t a date. It probably wasn’t a date. 

Hwitaek drew in a deep breath to fortify himself as he pulled open the door to the coffee shop. The early morning patrons were lined up at the counter, patiently waiting for their hit of caffeine before heading off to their respective destinations. Few people loitered at the tables and the cats were mostly out of site or curled up on the cat apartment, fast asleep. They were not morning people, those cats. He scanned the room hoping to see the delightful orange and white creature, Princess, striding over to him in greeting, but she was nowhere to be seen. This was a first, and since he already felt uncomfortable, it was disconcerting. 

“Thank the good lord!” Changgu shouted from behind the counter, startling more than one person in line. “Right on time. If you had been even a second late, I think Dawnie would have died on the spot. He’s been fretting all morning that you wouldn’t show up.” 

Forcing a smile onto his lips Hwitaek waved his hand at Changgu, “Of course I showed up. Why wouldn’t I?”

Completely ignoring the customer in front of him, Changgu turned to pour hot water into a mug and snatch a canister of loose leaf tea from a shelf behind him. “Who can even pretend to guess what goes on in that man’s head. I knew you’d come.” He spooned the mix of tea leaves and dried flower petals into an infuser and lowered it into the mug. He picked it up, turned slowly, not spilling a drop, and slid it onto the counter. “Tea for you, Hyung. Dawnie’s in the office,” he turned back to the customer, “Sorry, he’s VIP, the boss’s boyfriend.”

The customer nodded in understanding before placing her order. Changgu busied himself making the complicated coffee with no-sugar syrup and whipped cream and an obscure milk alternative while Hwitaek walked to the counter and wrapped his fingers around the white porcelain handle of the mug. He hesitated and then withdrew his hand, “I’ll just wait here until the tea is ready.” 

“That’s dumb, take it back to the office,” Changgu said, setting the to-go cup in front of the woman at the head of the line and taking her frequent customer card to punch out the spot indicating her 8th out of 10 purchases before she received a free muffin. “He’s probably having some sort of anxiety-induced fit as we speak.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type of person to have fits,” Hwitaek said, not making a move to grab the mug again.

“He’s not the type of person to fawn all over some guy walking down the street at seven in the morning either,” Changgu shot back, pulling a cinnamon roll from the display case and plating it for the man now at the head of the line, “and yet, here we are.”

Hwitaek considered the mug on the counter in front of him, unconsciously letting his shoulders sag under the weight of his doubt.

“Don’t be dumb, Hyung,” Changgu said, not even pausing as he prepared an espresso shot to pour into an Americano, “Just take the tea back and talk to him. You guys already put everything out there, what could you possibly be worried about?”

“What if I’m misunderstanding something? What if I’m misremembering?” Hwitaek stared at the tea, not daring to make eye contact with Hyojong’s obvious confidant.

Changgu sighed heavily, pausing in his duties to look at Hwitaek, “Unless you heard Dawnie saying that he doesn’t have feelings for you or that he doesn’t want to get in your pants, I think you’re good. The man has been ‘having feelings’ for you for months. It’s adorable and it’s real.”

“Adorable and real. Alright,” Hwitaek said, steeling his resolve as he grabbed the tea. He paused mid-step and turned back to look at Channgu, “I’m even starting to annoy myself with all of this dithering.” He headed down the hall, past the restrooms and to the undecorated door of the office, repeating the phrase ‘Adorable and real’ to himself.  He reached his free hand out, curled into a loose fist to knock on the door. 

Before he even made contact, the door swung open. Hwitaek jumped back, spilling hot water on the hand holding the mug and he hissed in pain. Hyojong, eyes wide with shock, stilled for a breath in the doorway before jumping forward to grab the mug from Hwitaek’s grip and pull him into the office. He kicked the door closed and dragged him nearer to the desk to set the mug down. He pulled Hwitaek’s hand toward him, holding it gently between his palms so he could take a closer look at it.

“Fuck, I wanted to have one good day with you in the shop without something going wrong, and I burnt you instead,” he looked up at Hwitaek’s face with a hint of despair in his eyes, “I’m so sorry.” He leaned over the hand and blew on the spot between Hwitaek’s thumb and index fingers where the skin had reddened.

Hwitaek felt Hyojong’s cool breath on his skin and shivered involuntarily. He blinked once, staring at the blond hair that slipped out from behind Hyojong’s ear and obscured his face. He pulled his hand out of Hyojong’s hold and brought it to his chest, cradling it with his other hand, “It’s fine. It doesn’t even hurt. Promise.”

Hyojong, eyes following Hwitaek’s hand, stood with his own still outstretched. He was quiet for a beat as he seemed to process the lack of warmth on his palms, “Oh, uh, yeah. You sure you’re ok? Do you need a burn patch? We keep them in the first aid kit. It’s right here, in the office. I   could get it out if you need one. They help a lot. Changgu used to burn himself all the time when he first started, so we always kept them on hand.” He was babbling. 

Hwitaek could see how nervous Hyojong was, could feel what he assumed was awkward tension settle between them, “Um, should we just sit at the desk and look at some of the lyrics?” 

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, yeah,” Hyojong walked around the desk and sat in his seat. The papers that had been previously strewn over the surface were neatly stacked on the corner and the laptop was closed and had been set on a small table behind the desk, leaving an open space for Hwitaek to set the black notebook. 

Hwitaek looked at the guest chair on his side of the table. Princess, the orange and white cat lay curled around the grumpy looking gray cat on the seat. She lifted her head and looked at his face, mewing loudly as if to warn him off from trying to steal their chosen napping spot. He looked up at Hyojong, the man smiling fondly at the cats, and asked, “Um, is it ok to move them?”

“I wouldn’t dare, but it’s your neck,” Hyojong shrugged, shifting to point at a chair he had pulled up next to his own, “but it would make more sense to sit over here so we can both look at the notebook.”

“Ah, right,” Hwitaek moved to the chair pulling out his notebook while doing his damnedest to force a smile on his lips. With a flourish, he motioned toward the notebook with his hand, “Where do you want to start?”

“Fuck,” Hyojong breathed out, still standing uncomfortably in front of his own chair, “This is hard as shit.”

Hwitaek sucked in a breath, feeling his chest tighten. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. I’ll leave.”

“What?” Hyojong’s eyebrows shot up, “Why would you go? Why would you leave?” His hand shot out and he gripped Hwitaek’s sleeve between his fingers, “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad at you?” Hwitaek looked down at where the other man’s fingers held onto his arm, “You said this was hard? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I mean...if you’ve had second thoughts.”

“No. Shit, no.” Hyojong let a smile curve his lips, “It  _ is  _ hard, but that’s not exactly what I meant. I know you really want to go through the lyrics, but I’m having to do everything in my power not to kiss you right now.”

Hwitaek stared at Hyojong’s face, with its little smile, and could almost taste the awkwardness shift subtly to something less complex, more primal. He swallowed, Hyojong watched the rise and fall of his adam's apple, his lips parting in what appeared to be awe. “The lyrics can…”

“They can wait….right?.” Hyojong stumbled over his words. He moved toward Hwitaek, reaching out to cup his face in his hands as he had in the alley. He maintained eye contact for thirty seconds longer than Hwitaek felt was necessary before leaning forward to press their lips together. This kiss was more desperate than their first, more urgent. Hyojong slid his hands down Hwitaek’s neck, curling his fingers around to run along either side of his spine, his thumbs resting at the notch where his collar bones met. Hwitaek wrapped his arms around Hyojong’s waist and pulled him closer. 

Hyojong ran his hands along Hwitaek’s shoulders and down his arms as he turned them so he could press Hwitaek against the desk. Hwitaek could feel the wooden edge press into his ass. He reached back and pushed the notebook away to clear the desktop with more force than was necessary. It flung across the smooth, clear surface and fell off the far side. The gray cat shot from the chair where the notebook had landed and streaked to the door, staring at the closed exit angrily.  Hyojong worked a path of kisses along Hwitaek’s jaw and down his neck. Princess mewled loudly. Hwitaek broke away from the kiss and looked back to see Princess jump from the chair to the desktop. The cat, without hesitation, walked directly to them and pressed her face into Hwitaek’s back, rubbing her scent on his shirt, circling around the desk and repeating the process.

“We…” Hwitaek couldn’t believe he was cockblocking himself as he gently pushed at Hyojong’s shoulders, “we have to stop.”

“Is this too much?” Hyojong asked, pulling back but not taking his hands from where they rested on Hwitaek’s waist.

“Oh, fuck, no,” Hwitaek turned to look at the cat, now sitting behind him, tail twitching, staring at them. She let out a conversational meow when she saw that she had finally caught their attention. “I can’t do this with her watching.”

Hyojong laughed, leaning forward, pressing the full length of his body against Hwitaek’s to reach around him and run the backs of his fingers between the cat’s ears, “She was a stray. She’s probably seen more action than either of us will ever even get.”

“I choose to believe that her eyes have never been defiled,” Hwitaek said, as he relished the pressure of Hyojong’s body pressed against his, “and I will not be the one to take away her innocence.”

“Fair enough,” Hyojong said, pressing a kiss into Hwitaek’s neck before pulling his body away. He walked around the desk and gently picked up the cat, holding her as if she were a baby, and taking her to the door. When he pulled it open, the gray cat darted between his feet in a rush to leave the room. Hyojong leaned out the door and set Princess gently on the floor outside the office. He silently pulled the door closed and turned back toward Hwitaek, “Better?”

“Much,” Hwitaek answered. Watching Hyojong interact with the animals, how gentle he was, how thoughtful, made Hwitaek feel an increased sense of security in the situation and in turn, made him feel more physically confident.

Hyojong wasted no time in returning to his spot in front of Hwitaek, pulling him into a kiss as he gripped his hips between his hands. He boosted Hwitaek up so he was sitting on the desk and Hwitaek spread his knees apart to allow Hyojong to press closer. Hwitaek could feel the pressure of Hyojong’s fingertips pressing into him through the material of his jeans. It felt like electricity was gathering under his skin everywhere their bodies made contact. He slid closer to Hyojong, leaning into the feeling, trying to intensify it.

“This is turning out so much better than I thought it would,” Hwitaek exhaled as Hyojong ran his tongue along the soft spot below his ear.

Hyojong pulled his lips back, leaving just enough space between his mouth and Hwitaek’s skin to speak, “What did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know, I was being dumb,” he shook his head as if to chase away the residual insecurity. “I wasn’t sure you still wanted...this.”

“Want what? This?” Hyojong brought Hwitaek’s fingers to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to the knuckles. “Or this?” he did the same to Hwitaek’s neck. “Or do you mean this?” and he leaned in and kissed Hwitaek’s mouth, first a light peck and then again more deliberately, licking along his bottom lip. 

Hwitaek groaned, opening his mouth to let his own tongue slip into Hyojong’s mouth. He ran his hands up Hyojong’s arms, running his fingers through his blond hair. “I really didn’t believe I was ever going to get to do this.”

“Believe it,” Hyojong whispered, “Please believe it. And do it. A lot.”

  
  
  



	8. So Damn Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months in and our hero has found his happy place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on the final chapter....life...

Hwitaek gripped the brown envelope between his fingers tightly as he rushed down the sidewalk to the Den and swung the door open. He scanned the room for his boyfriend, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He pulled the door closed quickly to keep the cats inside and the door caught on something, not closing all the way.

“Hey!” Jinho shouted, pushing himself inside, “Rude.”

Hwitaek spun back to see his best friend, scowl firmly set in place, enter the coffee shop and close the door with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “I didn’t know you were following me. I would never…I’m sorry!”

“You scream at a piece of mail and then run away like some sort of lunatic and you don’t expect me to follow?” Jinho rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t put at least a little effort into watching you take that final step into madness?” 

“Hyung!” Yanan called from near the only occupied table in the room, “You here for Dawnie? He isn't here yet. Come hang out with us.” He beckoned the newcomers to join him.

The small table was circled by four chairs and Changgu was sitting with his back to Hwitaek and Jinho, two young men on either side of him. He crooked his neck to look at them over his shoulder as he raised his coffee mug in an awkward salute at their arrival, “We have new friends!”

“You don’t treat your old friends very well, how did you get new ones?” Jinho walked around Hwitaek toward the table, squinting at the new faces as if measuring their worth.

“Oh my god,” one of the strangers said as he caught sight of Jinho, brushing his frizzy, permed hair away from his eyes as if to get a better look. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen him my life.”

“”What is?” Yanan asked, resting his hand on the back of the stranger’s chair, “Jinho?”

“Is that his name? Can I have him?” the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were working hard to hold back a wide smile.

“Yah!” Jinho exclaimed.

“He’s Hwitaek’s best friend, Wooseok, you’ll have to ask him,” Changgu said, turning back around to face the younger man. “He acts all grumpy, but he’s really cuddly if you pretend like you’re not paying attention.”

“Like one of the cats,” the other man, with a hint of a Japanese accent, interjected, running his fingers around the ears of the black and white cat he held cradled in his arms.

“Seriously? Like a cat?” Wooseok spun in his seat to look at Yanan, seeming to look for confirmation regarding Jinho’s personality, “I can’t have cats at my place,” Wooseok turned to face Hwitaek, “Can I have him?”

“To be honest, he’s a lot of work. You have to make sure he eats, play with him, snuggle him, and take him out for exercise or he’ll just sit inside all day on his computer.” Hwitaek scrunched his nose up as he seemed to consider the request, “I  _ have  _ been kind of neglectful lately, what with school, working on these songs,” he held up the envelop still clutched in his hand, “and spending time with Hyojong…”

“What the fuck, man, I’m your Hyung,” Jinho complained, swatting Hwitaek on the back of the head, “You can’t talk about me like some sort of pet.” 

“Yes,” Hwitaek rubbed at the spot Jinho had hit, “You can have him.”

“Yes!” Wooseok hissed as he made a fist with one hand and pumped it in a celebratory gesture. 

“I hate you all,” Jinho grumbled, “Now get your ass out of that chair, kid, and give it to your Hyung. You can pull up another one.”

Wooseok obediently scooched the chair back and stood up to his full height, moving to the side to leave room for Jinho to sit down, “All yours,” he said as he slid his messenger bag from the back of the chair and set it on the floor next to his friend’s feet.

“What did your parents do to you?” Jinho asked, voice thick with disapproval, “Nobody should be that tall.”

“I’m not  _ that _ tall,” Wooseok said, shoulders drooping slightly as if his feelings had been hurt.

“And I’m not that small,” Jinho retorted with a sharp nod, “now get another chair and sit down, it hurts my neck to look at you.”

Hwitaek walked around the table and sat in the fourth, still empty chair, setting the envelope on the table in front of him. He looked over at the man still holding the cat, “I’m Hwitaek, what’s your name?”

“Yuto,” he said, his expression remaining impassive, eyes never leaving the cat.

“They’re Dawnie’s fanboys,” Changgu shrugged. “They’re still babies, but they’re ballsy enough to actually ask him to work with them on some music.”

“Ah, so you’re waiting for Hyojong too?” Hwitaek asked, trying to catch Yuto’s eyes.  

“Yeah, we’ve been watching him at shows for awhile and Yuto even bought all of this mixed tapes,” Wooseok said as he pulled up a chair and sat between Hwitaek and Jinho. “All of his stuff’s so good, but some of his newer songs are really different like it’s more musical or something. I can’t explain it, but I love it. I want to do something like that and I think our voices would work well together.”

“The new stuff  _ is  _ different,” Hyojong said standing in the now open door of the cafe, having entered without being noticed. “I got a new writing partner,” He gestured at Hwitaek with his chin as he closed the door, smiling as he walked across the room. 

“I have something to show you,” Hwitaek said, touching the brown envelope in front of him.

“Is that what I think it is?” Hyojong asked, letting the strap of his backpack slide off his shoulder so he could drop it to the floor at Hwitaek’s feet.

Hwitaek nodded.

Hyojong made a high pitched scream in delight, sliding onto Hwitaek’s lap and wrapping his arms around the man’s neck in a tight hug before planting a loud kiss on his lips.

“Stop being disgusting,” Jinho sneered, “or tell us what all of the excitement is about so we can at least forgive this shit.” 

“I assume it’s good news,” Hyojong said, catching Hwitaek’s eyes and holding his gaze as if he could read his mind if he stared long enough. “It’s good news,” he said, pursing his lips and nodding vigorously.

Hwitaek wrapped his arms around Hyojong’s waist, holding him firmly on his lap, “Open it,” he coaxed. “Read it to everyone.”

Hyojong reached for the envelope and slid one long, slim finger under the already unsealed flap, opening it up. He pulled a couple of papers from inside and positioned them so he could read the top page aloud, “Dear Lee Hwitaek,” Hyojong wiggled on Hwitaek’s lap, crushing his thighs into the chair, “That’s you!”

“Yanan, coffee please,” Jinho cut in, “I think Dawnie here is gonna to take awhile to actually read the letter.”

“Shhhhhhhh,” Changgu’s eyes snapped to Jinho, “He hates it when you call him Dawnie.”

“He hates it when anyone calls him Dawnie,” Jinho said, genuinely confused, “I thought that’s why we called him that.”

“Wait, we’re calling him Dawnie now?” Wooseok asked, eyes moving between Jinho and Hyojong, “Are you changing your name from E’Dawn?”

“Can I please just finish reading this?” Hyojong asked surveying his friends as if challenging them to continue their interruptions. “Dear Lee Hwitaek, we are writing to inform you that our producers have selected the song you submitted to be recorded and performed as part of the upcoming release by project group Wanna One. Included in this mailing are the blah, blah, blah...You did it!”

“I did it,” Hwitaek whispered. “I can’t believe I actually did it.”

“Wait, you sold a song?” Yanan said in awe.

“Of course he sold a song,” Jinho answered, the pride in his voice shining through his usually teasing tone, “He’s Hwitaek. He’s insanely talented.  He just needed to show the right people.”

“So, wait, you’re helping E’Dawn, or Dawnie, whatever...with his stuff,  _ and  _ you just sold a song to Wanna One?” Wooseok said, eyebrows high in amazement, “I changed my mind, I don’t want the cute one anymore, I want you.”

“You can’t have this one,” Hyojong said, wrapping his arms around Hwitaek’s neck, still gripping the papers in his hand. “This one’s taken.”

“And this one is not a pet,” Jinho grumbled, “This place sucks now. I can’t hang out here anymore, too much...riffraff.”

“Did he say ‘riffraff’?” Yuto asked eyebrows pulled together as he tried to puzzle out the new word.

“He did,” Changgu confirmed, “It’s something old grandpa’s call young, cool kids.”

“We should celebrate,” Hyojong cut in, setting the envelope and papers on the table, “Like a proper celebration. Hwitaek is taking over the world of music and I accidentally got a new kitten.”

“Excuse me?” Yanan sighed, “You want to say that again?”

“We should have a party!” Hyojong exclaimed, ruffling his fingers through Hwitaek’s hair before kissing him on the cheek, “The is all the beginning of something big and new, I can feel it.”

The door to the coffee shop opened and two regular customers came in, eyes immediately falling on the group of seven crowded around the small table. Yanan shook his head and started walking to the counter to help the pair, “Shinwon! Kino! What’ll you have today?”

“The biggest iced Americano you can manage,” the smaller of the two said with a smile.

“The stuff of hell,” The taller said with a shudder. “Iced chai latte, please, and why are you all crammed around the tiniest table in the world when you have a whole coffee shop to yourself?”

“Because we were waiting for you two,” Hyojong said, resting his head on Hwitaek’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Jinho sighed.

“Does it have to?” Hwitaek asked, a smile splitting his face, the feeling of being completely happy almost overwhelming him in the moment.

“Nah,” Jinho shook his head, “I guess not.”

 


End file.
